


So Please Just Fall in Love with Me This Christmas

by deductress



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Adorable Newt Scamander, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Newt Scamander, Canon Autistic Character, Cinnamon Roll Newt Scamander, Happy Credence Barebone, M/M, Protective Credence Barebone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 15:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17124215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deductress/pseuds/deductress
Summary: When looking back, Newt realised the meltdown really should have been expected. All-in-all, Newt had done well to last as long as he had. He only wished the tension hadn’t hit its peak in the middle of a busy shopping mall two days before Christmas.





	So Please Just Fall in Love with Me This Christmas

When looking back, Newt realised the meltdown really should have been expected. The pressure and tension had been building considerably over the course of the week – Pickett had been unwell at the start of the week, meaning Newt had to take time off work to care for him (because of course Pickett was more important than his income), Christmas was only a short while away meaning shopping and lots of stressed, angry _loud_ people, Theseus had mentioned a party at his house which Newt was expected to attend requiring lots of mental preparation and it seemed the puppy farm black marketers Newt had been following all around America had managed to find a new hidden site, resulting in the loss of months of work attempting to track them down.

All-in-all, Newt had done well to last as long as he had. He only wished the tension hadn’t hit its peak in the middle of a busy shopping mall two days before Christmas, after being shoved to the side by a stressed parent chasing after their loose child with nothing but an abrupt ‘sorry!’ tossed behind them. The impact had jarringly thrown Newt to the side; it hadn’t been painful but the feeling of sudden _wrongness_ washing over him was worse than normal. Usually he was able to brush unexpected touches aside, knowing it couldn’t be helped or prevented. However it seemed this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. (And wasn’t that a heartbreaking image to behold?)

Suddenly the mall seemed to shrink in on itself, the sounds warping and intensifying – Newt no longer heard the lyrics to the Christmas tunes, only the high-pitched repetitious notes. The sounds of hundreds of heels clicking on the mall linoleum cracked like a whip against his senses. Children’s squeals of joy grating against his ears, like nails on a chalkboard. His vision was blinded by the blinking fairy lights hung from the ceiling along with the flashing electronic toys in shop windows, which seemed to do their best to echo a strobe light effect – shudderingly painful, and burning into his retinas so that when he closed his eyes the images still remained.

He shakily threw himself against the wall in an attempt to find some stability in his distorting reality, his legs failing him as he slid to the ground – instinctively curling his knees up to his chest and burying his face against them in an attempt to hide from the world. His hands came up to clamp over his ears, but the shrill sounds of Christmas still carried on through.

He was well aware this was one of the worst possible places to have a meltdown - he didn’t want to imagine what everyone was thinking of him right now; _strange_ , _weirdo_ , _mental_ , **_retarded,_** were all words he’d heard before. It had been easier as a child, people had been more willing to forgive his ‘tantrums’, but as a fully grown man nearing his thirties? Now it was just plain _weird_ and completely socially unacceptable. Still, there was little to be done. The meltdown was past the stage of being able to prevent it, or hold it off until he’d found a suitable place to hide. It was happening, and he’d have to worry about the abject humiliation after he’d dealt with the assault on his senses.

For now, Newt sat curled against the wall of the shopping mall, ears covered, eyes shut, teeth gritted and tremors running through his form, dearly wishing for his animals and the comfort they would bring.

 

\--

 

Credence Barebone wandered through the hectic mall, cringing at the crowds of people rushing between stores manically. He hated how people became at this time of year. Growing up in a strictly religious household – puritan – Christmas and merriment were considered sin; foul temptations and distractions created in an attempt to blind you from your worship of The Almighty. Thankfully, Credence had escaped that toxic existence the moment he had turned eighteen, with thanks to his dear friend Nagini whom encouraged him to break free. Nagini had also been a victim of abuse and neglect, but had fought her way out and was now all the more stronger for it. Her friendship had given Credence the confidence to appeal to the courts for guardianship of his younger sister Modesty after, shamefully, showing the evidence of his own abuse at the hands of their foster mother. His mother had been prosecuted and Modesty given over to Credence upon his gaining of stable employment. Now, six years on, Credence, Nagini and Modesty all lived together in a simple small apartment. Credence’s job was a mindless one, working in a warehouse, but it paid well and after years of feeling trapped and hopeless it granted him an autonomy he never thought he would experience.

It also meant he had the money to splurge on his little sister at Christmas, and splurge he would.

It might have been better if he’d gotten her presents a little earlier than two days before Christmas, but his job was busy at this time of year – his shifts usually lasting fifteen hours per day during the festive season, meaning by the time he got home he was ready to collapse straight into bed. Today had been his first day off in three weeks and he had a lot of shopping to get done. He’d already gotten a bottle of Nagini’s favourite perfume, along with a pair of silver earrings and a selection of chocolates for them all to consume over the coming week, but he had still to head to Modesty’s favourite clothing store and buy her the dress and shoes combo she had been raving about all month.

Ever since leaving his foster mother’s household, he’d made sure to make Christmas a big affair for his little family and always felt satisfied in knowing how appalled and horrified his mother would be if she saw them now. Nothing said ‘Fuck You Mother’ better than tinsel hanging from every surface, presents lining the floor and a huge overly-decorated Christmas tree. At Modesty’s request, each year they sent their mother a Christmas card with a photo of the three of them surrounded by their decorations and dressed in thick cliché Christmas sweaters. Each year, they heard nothing back from her.

Credence smiled softly to himself; Christmas was a great time of year.

Dodging an overly-hyper child and the harassed parent running after them, Credence stopped and turned to watch their chase in bemusement. It was then he heard the hushed alarmed murmurs behind him. Turning to the commotion, he saw a small group of people surrounding one of the walls in a small staggered half circle.

“What should we do?”

“Do you think he’s having a seizure? Maybe he has epilepsy?”

“That’s not epilepsy. He’s obviously got mental problems. They must have let the patients out the funny farm for the day.”

“John! Don’t be so rude! But… maybe we should call the mental hospital and see if they’re missing someone?”

Gently side-stepping his way through the crowd, Credence stopped abruptly at the sight of a man sitting bowed over on the ground, pushed up against the wall. His hands were gripping his ears fiercely as if to ward off any sound and his eyes tightly scrunched closed. Under the whispers and mutters of the crowd, Credence detected a quiet monotone hum emitting from the downed man before them.

Remembering the many times he had been in public and how his injuries and wounds had been gawked at and commented on, but never had he been approached and offered aid – Credence crouched down in front of the red-haired man, keeping his tone soft and non-threatening he queried, “Hey, are you okay? Do you need help?”

He was given no response. The humming continued.

Credence’s onyx eyes zoned in on the other’s features, particularly the tic of the flexing muscle in the humming man’s jaw, _he’s in pain_ , he realised.

Glancing to the side, Credence noticed a small suitcase by the man, reaching for it Credence opened it to reveal a selection of personal items. Maybe he’d be able to find an emergency contact number? A friend or family member who could explain what was going on and how to help relieve the pain.

After a quick search, Credence found no phone ( _who doesn’t have a phone in this day and age?_ ) and instead opened the man’s wallet hoping to find some kind of I.C.E card. Instead his eyes fell immediately upon a card in the front pocket with large print stating ‘ATTENTION! I AM AUTISTIC, IMPORTANT INFORMATION ON REVERSE PLEASE READ’. Removing the card from the pocket, he flipped it over to read the opposite side:

‘I am Autistic:

  * I am likely to be extremely anxious in unfamiliar situations
  * I may become uncommunicative or nonverbal under stress
  * My behaviour may appear to be unpredictable or inappropriate
  * I will need the help of an autism trained advocate
  * Do not touch me without my consent as it may cause pain or distress



Name: Newton Scamander  
  
With my consent or in an emergency please contact:  
  
Theseus Scamander +4477-’

He was cut off from reading the card when a loud voice from behind boomed, “What’s wrong with him then eh?”

The noise seemed to cause the redhead to curl his shoulders in further, making himself smaller as if to be less of a target (an action Credence knew well); the volume of his humming climbing up a notch.

Turning to the increasingly growing crowd behind him, Credence scowled, “You can all leave now. You’re not needed and you’re just making the situation worse.”

Inside he was silently amazed at his bravado, a few years ago he would have almost wet himself at the idea of speaking up against adults knowing only painful retribution would follow. Now, Credence knew he had to be the strong one here – he had always had a protective streak in him, throwing himself before mother in an attempt to protect the other orphans from her cruel words and scarring blows. In this moment, he knew he had to protect the suffering soul before him, miserably aware that no one else would.

Tutting and huffing in annoyance and offence, the crowd eventually began to disperse. It didn’t stop the gawking of passing shoppers, and the loud naïve queries as children trotted past asking, “Why is that man doing that? Is he hurt?”

Sliding his phone from his jacket pocket, Credence rang the number printed on the glossy card – it was picked up on the third ring, “Art? What’s wrong? You’d better not be trying to make an excuse to get out of the party, I told you-” a prim British accent answered, tone exasperated and yet fond.

“E-excuse me, is this Theseus Scamander?” Credence cut through cautiously.

The line fell silent for a moment before the sound of rustling and a closing door echoed through, “Who are you? Why do you have my brother’s phone?”

“Y-your name was on the card. It said to call you in the event of an emergency?”

“Oh my- is he alright? Is Newt okay? What’s happened?” the worry in Theseus’ tone increased exponentially, causing alarm bells to ring in Credence’s head.

“He’s, well, he’s in the middle of the shopping mall. He’s on the ground all curled up. He’s covering his ears with his hands, his eyes are closed and he’s humming, I think. It said on the card he’s autistic? What can I do to help him? Should I phone 911?”

“No! No, that would only make it worse. Can you – are there people around? Staring? Crowding him?”

Chancing a quick glance around, Credence was satisfied to see most shoppers were now minding their business – obviously Credence’s body was hiding Newt (and what an unusual name that was) from view quite well, “No. I told them all to go away. It’s busy but most people are walking right past now.”

“Thank you,” Theseus’ gratitude oozed through the phone, almost as if he couldn’t believe someone was actually willing to help his brother, “You need to get him somewhere quiet. Or, if you can’t move him – find something to cover his ears. And his eyes if you can. He’s experiencing sensory overload, it means that everything’s too loud and too bright for him. You need to help make it more bearable.”

“I can do that,” Credence promised, reaching into his inside pocket and pulling out his favourite pair of sunglasses and carefully slipping it on to Newt’s face, “I’m going to put the phone down and put you on speaker, okay?”

After placing the phone down, Credence looked around for something to cover Newt’s ears with – he had nothing, “I’ve given him my sunglasses but I don’t have anything to cover his ears with.”

“Is he wearing his scarf? It’s yellow and grey?”

“Oh, yes, he is.”

“Take it off if you can and wrap it around his head.”

Nodding, Credence followed instructions; carefully unfolding Newt’s scarf from around his neck, and loosely hanging it over Newt’s hands in a double layer.

“I-I’m… not sure it’s helping,” Credence admitted, watching the redhead nervously. Waiting for any sign that his actions were making a difference.

“Can you – I’m sorry to ask this when you don’t even know me or my brother – but can you put your hands over his ears as well?” the disembodied voice asked desperately, clearly frustrated he wasn’t there himself and able to comfort his brother and instead relying on a complete stranger to do it for him, “You’ll need to be firm. He hates soft or light touches, it hurts him.”

“Of course,” Credence slowly reached out, placing his hands cautiously over Newt’s own – the scarf separating their hands by millimetres, before pushing his hands inwards more firmly, worried he was both being too rough and too gentle.

As the minutes passed, both motionless as statues, Credence considered the man he was (there was no other word for it) holding. He was attractively pale; ‘porcelain-skinned’ a poet might write, with long dark lashes fanning high on his cheeks from underneath the rim of the sunglasses, freckles decorating his face evidencing a job or lifestyle outdoors. His hair was a reddish-brown, auburn maybe? Either way it seemed to suit his complexion well. His clothes were stylishly dated, sophisticated one might say. He wore a saffron waistcoat, thin bowtie and a soothingly blue coat made of a thick heavy material. Likely high quality and thusly expensive. Maybe he worked in business? Business men wore waistcoats and expensive jackets. But that didn’t explain the outdoor complexion the man held. He was thin, lean but evidently with upper body strength with his wider shoulders. His limbs were long and graceful, not gangly but instead almost elegant.

After five or so minutes, Newt’s eyes fluttered opened slowly and he raised his head to take in the raven-haired man crouched beside him shyly. After a moment his gaze dropped down, his cheeks heating and glowing a vibrant crimson, “Y-you-“ he cleared his throat roughly, his voice hoarse and meek, “You can… You can let go n-now…”

His tone was soft, charmingly so, and shy – so extraordinarily shy.

Credence cautiously dropped his hands, watching as Newt slipped his hands out from under his scarf and quietly unwrapped it and held it bunched in his hands before him, almost as a shield between them. His fingers twined in the fabric repetitively, running it through and over each finger – his gaze remaining lowered demurely.

Credence was about to open his mouth and ask how the man felt, when a panicked tinny voice called through the phone still laying between the pair, “Newt? Newt? Arty, are you okay?”

Shyly, Newt glanced at Credence waiting for his nod before picking up the phone, clicking it back off speakerphone and holding it to his ear, his tone low and faint, “Hey Theseus. Yeah, I’m okay. It’s… just been a difficult week…. Yeah… Yeah I know. I will… I’ll see you then…”

Hanging up, Newt passed the phone back before sliding the sunglasses off and handing them over too, “My brother- he, he asked me to say thank you. For-for looking after me while I was… incapacitated.”

“That’s alright. I know how it feels to be ignored when you need help. I just wanted you to feel better again,” Credence offered the medical card back to the other man, watching as he cringed in embarrassment and quickly stuffed the card back into his wallet and clicked his briefcase back closed.

“How embarrassing…” Newt mumbled, “I’m so sorry you had to- … I didn’t mean to- Were a lot of people watching?” the shame in his tone was hard to miss, and Credence felt himself feeling nothing but sympathy, nothing but _empathy_ for the redhead.

“I told them all to get lost,” Credence stated, frowning as he remembered their ignorant comments, “Don’t feel ashamed. You can’t help it. People are jerks, they just… Don’t, **can’t** understand what they’ve never experienced.”

Newt’s eyes flickered up to meet Credence’s for a moment before darting off to look over his shoulder at something, “You… understand?”

Lifting his scarred hands up between them, Credence shamefully admitted, “I know what it’s like to be surrounded by people and no one can see how much pain you’re in.”

Newt’s eyes took in the damage to Credence’s hands, and his expression softened, “I’m sorry you had to go through that. You’re better now?” he asked softly, kindly.

“Much better,” Credence promised, as he let his hands drop self-consciously, one hand reaching up to brush his curly raven-hair back behind his ear.

“I-I don’t think I introduced myself, my apologies, I’m Newt Scamander – pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Newt’s tone was getting bolder as he continued, his shoulders uncurling as he pulled himself back to his feet and wrapped his scarf back around his neck, Credence following.

“Credence Barebone, it’s nice to meet you too. It’s too busy in here, don’t you think?”

Gladly following Credence’s attempt at lighter conversation, Newt nodded eagerly, “Yes, very. The noise and crowds are just ghastly,” he agreed, a bright smile curling at his lips as his eyes met Credence’s once more, a cautious kind-of mischief dancing in his gaze before he glanced down at his briefcase once more, “I needed to buy a gift for my friend – there’s this fancy top she keeps going on about, but it seems I got a little, overwhelmed.”

“Who wouldn’t with all this racket? The adults are worse than the children! All their running around and shouting, you’d think this was _their_ first Christmas the way they act,” rolling his eyes theatrically, Credence felt a matching smile touching his lips as he tried to catch Newt’s gaze again, utterly entranced by his emerald eyes, “I’m here to get a dress for my little sister. She’s the same as your friend – _it’s just the perfect fit, the perfect colour, oh Credence you should see the collar it’s so cool_!”

His high-pitched mimicking of Modesty caused a sudden laugh to erupt from Newt, the hand not clutching his briefcase twirling the tassels of his scarf around his fingers in a soothing pattern.

“Would you-I mean, if you have the time, would you like to go for a coffee? Or a tea I suppose, b-being British and all,” Credence asked, stuttering in embarrassment, silently shocked at his own confidence.

Warm, kind eyes met his own, _such a beautiful shade of green_ Credence thought, “I’d love to,” Newt smiled, “But I’ve yet to find an establishment that’s any good at builder’s tea. What do Americans have against good tea?”

“We tend to prefer chucking it overboard rather than actually drinking it,” Credence teased, smiling in pleased triumph as another burst of laughter bubbled its way between Newt’s lips.

“I know a place that’s nice and quiet. They frown upon anyone being loud and rowdy, even at this time of year, I think you’ll like it,” Credence offered shyly, silently thrilled when Newt nodded. Credence wasn’t worried about getting Modesty’s present, he still had tomorrow after all and he’d like to think his sister would be happy to see Credence making a friend, especially at this time of year.

Smiling, Newt felt his eyes meeting Credence’s once more, no anxiety rising in him as he saw the onyx orbs staring tenderly back at him. Suddenly all the tension he’d felt from the week left his shoulders, the lights and noises around them dulled into a manageable din at the back of his thoughts and everything focused on the handsome man before him. Looking through his eyelashes, Newt’s head tilted to the side as he felt a warmth in his chest return that he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“That sounds lovely.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I just randomly bashed this out this morning. Three hours of furious typing later and this was produced. 
> 
> Honestly, I've only seen each movie once. Both times in the cinema. But the second movie broke me and now everything is about Newt Scamander and nothing hurts. My knowledge is pretty much solely based on what I've read in other fanfiction. (I'm getting the first movie for xmas, so will be able to re-watch immediately.) I LOVE that Newt is canon autistic (bless you Eddie Redmayne, you ginger God you) and Credence is just a cutie.
> 
> So yes, this is what happened. Hope it's not too rushed and aimless.
> 
> I *might* continue this if there is interest. Although, if anyone is a reader of my other stories, they'll know I tend to update once every four years. I am super busy, and basically only have time for writing at xmas when I have time off work. But oh well. I'm glad to have found another autistic character I can live vicariously through.
> 
> Title from Michael Buble's wonderful Christmas song, "Cold December Night".


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